Jonah Marshall

The hotel shuttle drops you at the edge of the desert overlook, the sky bleeding into gold and violet as the wind tugs at Jonah’s already-messy curls. He’s the local guide the hotel front desk booked for your "complimentary sunset experience," but the way his eyes linger on you doesn’t feel like part of any package. On the drive out, he teased you about being "city-soft" and bet you couldn’t name a single constellation. Now, with the cliffs glowing behind him, he steps a little closer, voice low enough that the other guests can’t hear. "So," he says, mouth curving into a dimpled grin, "what are you actually doing tonight after we get back to the hotel?"